


Boxes

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Detective Comics (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, Tim Drake is Red Robin, i love them, these two are dorks okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Tim and Steph move into their first apartment together. Cuteness ensues.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Comments: 7
Kudos: 90





	Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a couple hours and edited it in even less time so bear with me here, folks. My mom's having a party and I didn't want to talk to people which is mostly why I wrote this in the first place whoops.

Steph drops the final box onto the floor, uncaring of what delicates might be rattling and/or shattering inside. After three flights of stairs and enough boxes to break the Batman’s back a second time, tender loving care is a thing of the past. Who knew that moving into their first apartment together would involve so much grunt work? She feels cheated.  
  
Stephanie leans back until her spine cracks, making the executive decision that her box-carrying career ends today. Her Ivy University sweatshirt sticks to her sweat-soaked skin and her hair is falling out of its ponytail in wisps. _Fuck_ the summer heat.  
  
“i'm so fucking exhausted," she groans. _"Please_ tell me we're finished."  
  
Tim snorts from the other end of the living room where he fiddles with the clunky air conditioner set into the wall. “That’s what she said.”  
  
"Wow. Get a look at my twelve-year-old boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen. His twenty-two years of life have _clearly_ taught him nothing about maturity.”  
  
“Like you weren’t thinking the exact same thing.”  
  
Which...okay, that’s fair. Or maybe she’s just too tired to bother arguing about the validity of their preteen-like brains. Steph gives in to her exhaustion and collapses onto the hardwood floor, stretching out her arms and legs, snow angel-style. Every muscle in her body has been worked to the consistency of silly string.  
  
“I’m never getting back up off this floor,” she declares. “No more walking. You’re going to have to drag me around on a sled for the rest of our lives.”  
  
“What about Batgirl? People are going to wonder why she abandoned her beloved Gotham.”  
  
“Let them. Batgirl has a new, more _important_ mission: lie on the floor and die.” She sticks her tongue out to really sell it. Somewhere in this city, Basil Karlo is _quaking_ in his mud at her acting skills.  
  
“A valid lifestyle, but then who will reach all of the high shelves at the grocery store?”  
  
“We’ll make Conner do it as payback for not helping us carry all of our shit upstairs.”  
  
“As I recall, at least sixty-five percent of this is _your_ shit.”  
  
Steph flicks a dust bunny into the air and watches it drift back down to Earth. “Yeah, because all you own is sci-fi merch. We need adult things in our home like towels and cleaning supplies and _dishes.”_  
  
“And the lavender tree?”  
  
 _“Especially_ the lavender tree.”  
  
Tim cracks open a panel in the air conditioner, grimacing at its circuitry. “This thing is terrible. Do you think our landlord will notice if I tinker with it?”  
  
“Most likely.”  
  
“So...I should do it anyway?”  
  
“Obviously. What else am I keeping you around for?”  
  
“I was under the impression it was because of my cute butt and boyish charm.”  
  
“Nope. You’re just a glorified handyman.” Steph winks at him before dropping her head back to the dirty floor. She looks around at the boxed appliances and miscellaneous belongings that surround them. The apartment looked enormous when they signed the lease for it two weeks ago, but now that it’s filled with all of their stuff, it might as well be a shoebox.  
  
She sighs. “We should probably start unpacking."  
  
"I thought you were exhausted?”  
  
“I am, but I also know us. If we don’t start going through everything now we'll never get around to it."  
  
“You're not wrong.” Tim abandons the air conditioner and dodges the assorted boxes scattered across the floor, making his way to the kitchen. Steph hits his butt with her foot when he’s in reach and is rewarded with a middle finger over his shoulder. She laughs as he disappears.  
  
Theoretically, Steph could see him across their brand new kitchen island if she tilted her head up a little, but at what cost? She listens to Tim sifting through the handful of boxes they set up on the table earlier, deeming them too important to be lumped in with the average populous.  
  
“Hey,” Tim calls, “do you remember which box has my photography equipment in it?”  
  
Bold of him to assume she remembers what they had for breakfast this morning. (It was a package of cinnamon rolls that Steph bought at a gas station on their way here, but that’s beside the point.) “Uh...the brown one, I think?”  
  
“They’re all brown!”  
  
“Then you should have labeled it if it’s so important to you!”  
  
“I would have, but you were hogging the Sharpie to draw bat symbols on— _aha!”_ There’s more rustling, then Tim appears behind the island holding his shiny Kodak camera aloft like it’s an ancient artifact and he’s a less rugged Indiana Jones. “Found it.”  
  
Steph watches him vault over the island with a kind of swiftness only a bat could possess. “Did I really just hear you say ‘aha’ to me in my own home?”  
  
“And I don’t regret it.”  
  
“Dweeb.” But the jab is ignored as Tim, forever weird and enigmatic for even longer, hangs the camera around his neck and snaps a photo of the front door. He pivots and takes another of the fireplace, bare mantle and all. Steph props herself up on one elbow. “What are you doing?”  
  
Tim takes a picture of the mountain of boxes atop what was once an end table they found at a flea market. “Everyone likes a before and after montage.”  
  
“But everything is all boxed up. We don’t even have a _couch_ yet.”  
  
“That’s why it’s going to look so cool when we finish the _after_ part,” Tim replies like it’s obvious. He swivels to face Stephanie and raises the camera to his eye. Looking at him head-on makes it clear that this boy looks more put-together than he has any right to, blue polo hardly wrinkled and the only tell that strenuous activity has transpired being his tangled mop of black hair. Then again, his hair is like that even on a good day. “Say cheese.”  
  
“Are you kidding? I’m all gross and sweaty.”  
  
He just shrugs, dopey grin glued in place. “So? You always look gorgeous.” The camera flashes before she can protest more. “Besides, it’s all part of the new apartment experience, right?”  
  
“You’re a dork.”  
  
“I’m _your_ dork.” And it’s true enough that Steph lets him photograph his heart out, unable to deny him when he’s like this. She wishes she had a camera of her own so she could capture a snapshot of those piercing blue eyes, the way his tongue pokes out of his mouth when he’s concentrating. That kind of cuteness should be _illegal._  
  
Steph stretches her arms over her head, palms touching the wall behind her. “I want a shower.” She reaches out with her legs and traps Tim’s ankle between both of her own, tugging him closer. “Carry me?”  
  
“I can’t even remember where the bathroom is in this place.” Another camera flash.  
  
“We’ll build one right here on the floor, duh. And a kitchen and dining room. Maybe a backyard.”  
  
Tim laughs, flopping onto his back beside her. “Because you’re all about remodeling.”  
  
“You’re damn right I am. I’m a _feng shui_ master.” Steph reaches out and pulls Tim into her, wrapping her arm around his waist. They’re both gross from moving in, but she couldn’t care less. “So how long do you think we have?”  
  
“Until what?”  
  
“Until the wolves descend. Dick’s been hanging onto a housewarming present for weeks, and you _know_ Damian’s going to get picky about our security system.”  
  
Tim snorts. “Don’t forget Bruce. I give it a day tops before he’s knocking on our door to make sure we haven’t burned the building down yet.”  
  
“You’d think he would have more faith in two loyal ex-Robins.” She hooks a finger on the Superman curl over Tim’s forehead and watches it spring back into place. “Then again, my first thought when we got here was how badly I wanted to spread butter on the floor and slide the boxes down the hallway, so maybe he’s got a point.”  
  
“We’ll set that idea aside for later when our brains are working again,” Tim says. He picks up the camera again and twists it so the lens is facing them. “Take a selfie with me?”  
  
“Don’t selfies need to be taken on a phone?”  
  
“I don’t think that’s a rule.” He raises the camera, shaking it. “Come on, take a selfie with me to celebrate our new place. We’re real adults now.”  
  
Steph wrinkles her nose. “Never call me an adult ever again. And you know we’re still going to be crashing at the manor every chance we get, right? It might only be fifteen minutes away but my laziness has no limits.”  
  
“Oh absolutely.” Tim shifts to wrap his arm around her, careful not to pull her hair. “Say cheese, Steph.”  
  
This is an all new level of dorkiness. But Steph gives in and tucks her head into the crook of Tim’s shoulder, sweat and messy hair be damned. The flash goes off and she’s momentarily blinded. Her vision comes back in midnight blotches to find Tim already turning the camera around to see how it came out.  
  
“Cute,” he says, and Steph tugs the camera her way to get a look.  
  
It’s not the best picture they’ve taken by any means. If the Gotham Gazette were putting together a Brown/Drake-Wayne moving day column, the photographer would be fired on the spot. Their faces are sweaty and flushed from the day's exertion and the background consists of dust clumps plus a lovely crack in the wall’s molding.  
  
But their eyes are shining, and Steph can’t deny that they look exactly the way they should. It shows the parts of them that magazine covers and gala aristocrats don’t get to witness. Gone are the masks that uphold the Wayne legacy and intimidate as Red Robin and Batgirl; all that’s left now are Tim and Stephanie, two people who are in love and excited to start this new chapter together.  
  
She hums. “Not bad. We should hang it somewhere.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. It’ll be nice to christen this place the way it deserves.”  
  
Tim chuckles and turns the camera off, tossing it onto the pile of their vigilante uniforms in the corner. “Most people christen their homes very differently, but sure.”  
  
“Oh, don’t count me out yet, Boy Wonder. We can do that part too.” Stephanie lifts her head and catches his mouth in a kiss, her arm tightening around his waist to keep him close. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, for she pulls away less than ten seconds later and puts a finger to his lips before he can protest. “Tomorrow, when I can move my limbs again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I quadruple dog dare you to tell me in the comments who you'd rather go on a date with: Shrek or that big shark from Finding Nemo.
> 
> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
